lf store--at the drift, and its complement of oat-straw. But the
_vlei_[25] from which the place takes its name was the very deuce for
wheeled transport. All is fair in "love and war." This being a creed
very staunchly adhered to by the private soldier when campaigning, the
mess-servants of the staff of the Cavalry Brigade saw fit in the
early morning to steal a span[26] of mules which had strayed from the
protection of their rightful owners. Now the Brigade state _fourgon_
with a span of four mules was a big enterprise, and if treated gently
might have ministered to the comfort of the staff for many months. But
no; the brigadier's servant and the mess-waiter, who was a
high-spirited and intelligent dragoon, sought to vary the _ennui_ of
the march, and to assert their superiority over the Kaffirs in the
matter of stage-driving, by taking the _fourgon_ and its half broken
team full gallop down the incline terminating in Houwater _vlei_. A
playful and exhilarating expedient, which ruined the brigadier's
spring vehicle for ever and a day, and denied the staff many home
comforts for that and some consecutive nights....

The soldier, officer or man, who finds himself without a bivouac in
the middle of a camp, experiences for the moment much the same
sensations as a "broke" man in the streets of London. Of the two, the
officer has the worse time. A private soldier will be able to
approach some one or other of the company cooks with the certainty of
a rough welcome. If he is wise he will arrive armed with some stray
piece of driftwood to add to the stock of fuel. Thus will success be
assured, for Thomas of all men is the most unselfish. In the first
instance, if he be a staff officer, he has probably too much to get
done in a short space of time to think about his creature comforts.
Then, if the ordinary channels have failed, he has probably too much
diffidence to propose himself upon the hospitality of his
fellow-comrades. In this manner is the simile of the "broke" man in
midst of London's wealth maintained. Brigadiers, of course, do not
starve; they would not, even if they possessed no _bandobust_[27] of
their own. Some squadron mess claimed the chief of the Cavalry Brigade
for the evening, and, probably, fed him well. But the juniors of his
staff were without home, and it was long past dark before the
Intelligence officer could think of food. His first duties were orders
for the morrow. The officer in supreme command had b